Not That Easy
by midwintersilver
Summary: When Mac accidentally tells Sturgis she's in love with Harm, he responds a little differently than expected.


Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they aren't mine.

A/N: One of my most-watched youtube clips has to be the scene from "Capitol Crime" (season 7, episode 12) when Mac tells Sturgis she's in love with Harm. Sturgis can be a bit of a challenging character, and he and Mac clash frequently. He rarely backs away from saying what he thinks needs to be said, controversial as it might be. This is what might have happened if Sturgis challenged Mac in that scene instead of humouring her - naturally, an interesting chain of events ensues.

* * *

"Because….I'm in love with him." The unintentional words sent such a shockwave through her body she had to brace against the window to absorb it.

"I know," Sturgis said calmly, not moving from his position by her desk.

"What?" She spun then, equal parts surprised and exasperated.

"I know," he repeated in his smooth, low son-of-a-preacher voice; a voice that made her feel as patronised and wronged as a three-year-old having a tantrum.

"How?" She demanded, hands on her hips.

"Oh, Mac." He knew she would find this condescending, but he honestly couldn't help it. "He's everything to you. You would drop the world to be by his side, and you've done it before. You kiss him under mistletoe like he's the only one you ever want to touch. And you don't think no-one saw you on the Admiral's porch?"

Mac gasped, one hand rising to cover her mouth. "Someone _saw_ us?"

Sturgis nodded his perpetually serious head in assent. "Tiner let it slip accidentally one day, but I promised I wouldn't tell because I'm your friend," he looked at her significantly, "both your friends. And I can't tell you you're in love until you admit that to yourself."

Mac gave a sardonic smile. "And now that I've accidentally told you that I love him," the word sent a tremor like an aftershock through her, "the cat's out of the bag, is it?"

"Pretty much," Sturgis said in that smooth, infuriating voice with his mellow, infuriating accent. He held her gaze. "You know it's true, Mac."

Mac lost it then, flinging the hands which rested at her temples to thump against her thighs. "I know it's true, Sturgis," she said slowly, surely, admitting it to herself. "I know I love him. But that doesn't mean anything's going to change."

Sturgis tipped his head knowingly. "But it can."

"Oh, can it now?" She bucked her head and rolled her eyes in a picture-perfect impression of a stroppy teenager. And then, ultra-sarcastically: "tell me how, Oh Wise One."

Sturgis rolled his own eyes as she waited in faux-devout silence for his response. "I can't tell you how to run your life, Mac," he said meaningfully.

"Oh, don't stop," Mac said in a voice so poisonous it could have been laced with cyanide. "You're doing an awfully good job so far."

"That's it," Sturgis said, standing up so hard he sent his chair rocking backwards. His voice, though still low, was sizzling with an intensity Mac's high-school band conductor would have applauded. "You two fight like children, but I could build a suspension bridge with your sexual tension. You nearly marry other people," the word was sharp as a knife without any change in volume, "but all you want in the end is each other. You," he looked steadily at Mac, "want words he can't give you. But the thing with Harm is he doesn't do words. He does actions. And aren't his actions enough?"

"Oh, come on Sturgis, he…"

Her sparring partner simply held up a hand in warning. "Whatever you're going to say, I probably completely agree. I'm not out here to defend him, Mac. I'm willing to bet that sometimes he's come this close to saying the words," he held up a finger and thumb perhaps half an inch apart, "and then retreated before he could finish. How hard is it to say a sentence or two, right?"

"Right," Mac agreed, feeling deservedly vindicated. Unfortunately, she sensed something bigger coming which might turn her momentary triumph on its head.

"But Mac, if you knew he was that close to saying it," Sturgis took a step closer, again holding the thumb and finger out in front of him, "did you ever think of saying something yourself to spur him along?" Although she felt like she'd already been lectured, Mac thought spitefully, this preacher's son was just getting warmed up. "You're a sensible woman, Mac. You know that love is a two-way street. You're also not the sort to stick needlessly to traditional gender roles, and you chose the right job for it." He raised his eyebrows, glancing significantly at the medals which adorned her chest pocket.

"And what of it?" Mac offered quickly, chin tilted up.

"What of it indeed," Sturgis answered, pressing his palms together. "If at work you choose to stand up against these preconceived ideas of gender, Mac, it would follow that you were the same at home. And if that were true…"

Mac ignored the conclusion he was coming to.

"If that were true, then you could easily be a man and say it first. If that's what it takes to bring an end to this deadlock between you, you darn well should." He took in her face quickly, and found no rational objection therein. "Give me one good reason you shouldn't tell him how you feel, Mac. I dare you."

Mac sighed at length. "I suppose no woman wants to be a mind-reader."

"Mmm." Sturgis nodded understandingly. "Bobbi told me that once. But believe it or not, with women we respect, no man wants to either." He paused a moment to let his words sink in, then continued to explain them. "It's a tricky balance to find," he paced with restrained control along the desk side of her office, "deferring to her often in personal and professional matters, and then having all the onus on you in a particularly important area. It's a minefield of questions - you support her, respect her, admire her. You know she is strong, capable and independent in her own right. So isn't she as right a person as you to take the first step?"

Mac nodded reluctantly. "I suppose you're right. I expect him to take those steps when he probably does feel uncomfortable doing it."

"Mac, can I be honest for a moment?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes," she said tenuously, hoping she wouldn't regret it.

"I've worked with you for years," he said calmly, but with a hint of laughter in his voice, "and you still intimidate me. After all this time working so closely together, I know I shouldn't be scared of you - and rationally, I'm not. But there's still some part of my mind that worries you'll turn around and tell me what an idiot I am - and even worse, that it'll be true."

Mac's face showed shock and confusion. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Sturgis rolled his eyes slightly. He'd predicted she would miss the point. "That was just for comparison, Mac, to help me make my case. If I still feel that way, after so much time working closely with you and despite the respect I know you have for me, don't you think Harm might…"

She'd waited out most of the speech with tension in her posture, but now she could bear it no more. "With respect, Sturgis," she interrupted firmly, "Harm and I have a different relationship."

"How so?" Sturgis queried intelligently.

Mac pursed her lips with impatience. "I've known him much longer than I've known you, and we've worked more closely together. Besides, our personal relationship has always been more…" she trailed off, looking for the word, and settled finally with "complicated."

"Mmm." Sturgis nodded in the affirmative, arms folded. "So hasn't Harm got a lot more to lose?"

Mac shook her head so quickly it looked like a shiver. "Than who?"

"Than me." He saw her closed-off stance and raised her an explanation. "If I made some grand declaration to you right now, mild fear of you aside, what's the worst that could happen?"

"I could reject you." Fuzzy-featured, Mac wondered where this was going.

"And it would be a bit awkward, but as long as I didn't do anything inappropriate we'd still have a civil relationship at the office. Right?" Sturgis paced evenly down the room, looking significantly at Mac for confirmation.

"Right," Mac said with a hint of uncertainty.

"And if Harm walked in here right now and told you he loved you, what's the worst that could happen?"

Mac's brow furrowed. "I could reject him. Sturgis, I'm not sure I like where you're going with this…"

"Hear me out," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "So you could reject him. And then he would probably lose the most important person in his life, right? He would lose the partnership that works so well, on and off duty. He would lose the friendship that makes his world turn, the only person he can rely on through thick and thin. Isn't that a lot to risk?"

Mac tossed her head impatiently. "But love's about risk, Sturgis. If you don't take the risks, you don't get the rewards."

"You're sure about that?" He was building up to an inevitable climax.

"Yes," she said, wondering how deep a hole she'd dug herself with the word.

"Good." Mac sat with barely-suppressed anxiety, waiting for him to destroy the stack of words which sat like Jenga blocks in front of her, unstable enough in their own right. "Good. So you know you love him, and you're certain you have to take risks for love. You've admitted that Harm does actions, not words, and that perhaps you've expected too much from him. You've accepted there's no reason you can't take the first step. And you know that he has an awful lot to lose."

"Yes," Mac said hesitantly when he seemed to wait for a response.

"So the words are yours, Mac," he said, fiery eyes seizing on hers and conveying their challenge. "I'm willing to bet you're in a much better position to say them than he is. So do it."

"Sturgis…" her face twisted, pained and anxious. "It's not that easy."

He blinked once. "Isn't it?"

Sturgis had a terrible way of making her justify herself incessantly. Eventually, it made her feel unsure of her own mind - as if her thought processes were betraying her. She didn't appreciate the challenge to step up to the plate he threw at her with every syllable, but a growing part of her agreed with him. "How do I do it?" She asked finally, her voice cracking slightly on the last three words.

"It's your choice, Mac," Sturgis said with more sympathy than she'd thought he possessed. "But if I were you, I would go into his office right now, shut the door and tell him."

"Doesn't that seem…odd…to you?"

"Mac," he said through hooded eyes, "if you take this home and think it over, how likely are you to come back in the morning still thinking it's the right thing to do?"

"Not very," she chanced, her face screwing up in tortured thought.

His features swam, and then resolved as he seemed to come to a decision. "Mac, do you love him?" He asked swiftly and firmly.

"Yes," she answered just as quickly.

"Is he what you want?" He shot back, like a leading question in a cross-examination.

"Yes."

"Then go tell him." He encouraged her out of the chair with a hand on her back, pushing lightly towards the door. Mac screwed up her face, forcing the negative thoughts out through her forehead, and got up.

The journey to Harm's office was the longest it had ever been, and the shortest. She couldn't be sure whether time flew or stopped, but either way the anxiety hadn't ceased by the time she stood at his door. Her clenched fist hesitated on the varnished wood, absorbing its coolness as she centred herself. Then she knocked - twice - before she could think better of it, a part of her still hoping he wasn't in.

"Who is it?" The smooth, deep voice emanated from behind the door.

"Mac."

"Oh," it was lighter now, pleasant. "Come in."

She entered with military precision and closed the door behind her, an action which tipped him off that something was happening. "Are you okay?" He asked slowly, brows furrowing in anxiety.

"Yes." She nodded firmly. "Harm, I was talking to Sturgis before, and I said something to him that I thought you should know."

"Go on," he said, the worry still present in his voice.

"I'm in love with you." Her stomach turned acidly, both anxious and relieved the words had finally been said. "I've loved you for years and you are everything. This is everything."

His eyes searched her face, looking quickly for a spark of mirth, for some indication her admission wasn't totally serious. "Honestly?" He asked slowly, for confirmation.

She forced herself to nod, eyes falling closed with the effort it took to stay in her seat rather than running from confrontation.

He rose from his seat and made towards the door, and a piece of her heart seemed to break off and fall down heavily on her stomach.

At the last moment, she realised he'd been walking toward her. He stood in front of her, perhaps half a foot away with his eyes firmly on hers, and lifted a piece of her dark, silky hair as he said: "honestly, Mac, I'm in love with you too."

No words could express the relief that she felt in that moment. "Really?" She asked, eyes flicking around his face as if to catalogue its features.

"Really," he confirmed steadily, and caught her gaze with his so solidly she couldn't break free if she tried. A part of her fancied that something in her reached out to him in that moment, forming an unbreakable bond - there was nothing like "I love you" to set fire to your soul. Then suddenly his pearly blue eyes were reeling her in, steady and undeniable. She felt her feet sliding forward, her hips shifting to compensate, and the wafer-thin airy space between his lips and hers.

He exhaled and she giggled slightly at the feeling of his warmth on her mouth. "Harm," she whispered into the cracks between their bodies, and then their lips touched.


End file.
